


Twelve Days Of Christmas

by Qzeebrella



Category: Star Trek: Enterprise
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-01-15
Updated: 2007-01-14
Packaged: 2018-08-16 05:17:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 9,532
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8088715
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Qzeebrella/pseuds/Qzeebrella
Summary: Jon gives Malcolm twelve gifts over the twelve days of Christmas





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Kylie Lee, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [Warp 5 Complex](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Warp_5_Complex), the software of which ceased to be maintained and created a security hazard. To make future maintenance and archive growth easier, I began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in August 2016. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but I may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Warp 5 Complex collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/Warp5Complex).

  
Author's notes: the first eleven chapters are G rated, the twelth chapter is NC-17  


* * *

â€œOn the first day of Christmas my true love sent to me, a partridge in a pear tree.â€

To: Lieutenant Malcolm Reed  
From: Captain Jonathan Archer  
Re: Delivery en route

 

I have noticed that you always take the same phase pistol any time you need one. I got to thinking that it would probably make more sense for you to keep the pistol for yourself, instead of making you sign it out every time you need it. So, from now on phase pistol 643 is yours. It will be delivered shortly. I took the liberty of having it engraved for you. 

 

Jon   
***   
Malcolm was trying very hard not to be incredibly touched by the captain giving him a phase pistol to keep and use in whatever manner he chose. The lieutenant was attempting to convince himself that the fact his commanding officer noticed which weapon was his favourite meant nothing to him. The young boy in him even tried to resist the urge to trace the words "Property of Malcolm Reed" inscribed on the weapon. Really he did. But it was useless. 

 

Malcolm was touched, honoured and overjoyed to have a phase pistol of his very own. It made him think about the captain every time he looked at it or touched it. It made him remember the generosity of spirit within the man who was his captain. And it made him smile. 

 

On the first day of Christmas, my captain sent to me, a phase pistol of my very own.


	2. Chapter 2

â€œOn the second day of Christmas, my true love sent to me two turtle doves...â€

Malcolm was standing in the armoury, going over the results of a diagnostic of the port canon when it happened. Jon patted his shoulder. For no reason at all. Almost as if the captain had done it automatically, as part of his normal greeting.

Now the Englishman could not stop thinking about it and that irritated him. God knew it wasnâ€™t as if getting a shoulder pat from the older man was unusual. Anything but.

The captain patted him on the shoulder after every successful away mission. The man patted him when they survived dire situations together, such as when they had faced the cyborgs. He patted him every time he accomplished something of note. Every time his armoury team repelled a boarding party. Every time he pulled off a brilliant strategy in helping to fight of an enemy ship. 

All the times but this one had something in common - they had all come _**after**_ the fact. After the lieutenant had done something to merit the attention. This shoulder pat though had been done as just part of a greeting, not as a reward for a job well done or a reminder that they had survived another life-threatening situation.

The lieutenant was sure that was the only reason he kept thinking about it. It had nothing to do with the secret thrill he had gotten from the captain touching him just because. Nor was it responsible for the bubbling happiness he felt. It was definitely not the reason he kept thinking about the older man throughout the day. And it did not, in any way, lead to Malcolm leaning into Jonâ€™s touch the second time the man patted him on the shoulder that day.

In fact, the younger man would deny vehemently that he had done so if anyone had dared ask him about it. Even though there could be no question that he had, in fact, leaned into the second shoulder pat and had smiled to himself over it. 

If Malcolm fell asleep full of warm pleasure from thinking of the shoulder pats, no one would know it but him. Even if it led to his dreams being full of the memory of how those shoulder pats made him feel special.

On the second day of Christmas, my captain gave to me, two shoulder pats.


	3. Chapter 3

â€œOn the third day of Christmas, my true love sent to me, three turtle doves.â€

Malcolm's neck prickled with the knowledge that he was being watched. It made his skin itch and though he tried to resist the urge to check to see who was watching him, he was unable to resist and so he looked up and immediately identified the source. The captain was looking at him. 

The older man's gaze was so honest and direct that it pierced his heart. There was interest glinting in those eyes, an interest Malcolm wasn't sure how to respond to. Especially when it was directed at him by a very handsome man who happened to be his captain. So he turned to his console again and focused on that for the rest of the morning. 

Lieutenant Reed chose to have a late lunch that day and told himself it was because he just did not have time earlier. It wasnâ€™t as if he was trying to avoid the captain due to the way Jonâ€™s looking at him with interest made him feel. Sure he might be a little on edge and maybe he was somewhat flattered, but it didnâ€™t really mean anything, did it?

Malcolm sighed as he admitted to himself that he wanted it to mean something. That he wanted Jon to be interested in him. That he even wanted the handsome man to look at him again. It was when he admitted that to himself, that he looked up to see the captain watching him again. This time while standing near the drink dispenser with no drink in hand. 

The captain looked at him. Looked him up and down with interest and perhaps a hint of desire. Malcolm was starting to feel his body respond to that look when a group of scientists burst into the room, all heading toward the drink dispenser as if they had not seen coffee for days. They swarmed around the captain, buzzing about him excitedly as they waved PADDs about and ordered drinks. Malcolm, remembering the saying that discretion is the better part of valour, abandoned the older man to his fate and made his way to the armoury, intending to use the shooting range. So as to release some of the excess energy he found within himself. 

Three hours later, the captain entered the armoury and looked at him accusingly. Malcolm just shrugged, knowing none of the crew would hold his strategic retreat against him. Jon shook his head at him, smiled and sent him a look that promised revenge. The older man then turned to leave, but not before looking him up and down in such a way that had Malcolm returning to the shooting range, to let off some of his pent up energy again. 

On the third day of Christmas, the captain gave to me, three significant looks.


	4. Chapter 4

*note, Jon is always the one to speak first in the following conversations.

***  
"On the fourth day of Christmas, my true love sent to me, four calling birds." 

Malcolm was fairly certain that the only reason Starfleet made each department head file three different forms on everything imaginable was to drive the command staff insane. There could be no other explanation for it, considering some of the inane forms he had to fill out. Unfortunately, he was going to be stuck in his office all day, filling out form after form after form, since the monthly status reports were due soon. 

He sighed, knowing how futile it was to wish for an alien to attack or an interesting phenomenon to show up, thus necessitating his presence on the bridge. He could only wish that something would come up to give him a valid reason to assign the task of filling out the forms to someone else. But no one ever attacked the ship when Malcolm was doing something boring and repetitive. Nooo... they always waited until he was halfway through something interesting like designing a stable force field or going through battle simulations to attack. 

So when the COMM buzzed, he answered it right away, thanking his lucky stars for the reprieve. 

â€œMalcolm?â€

"Yes?" 

"So you're as bored by this paperwork as I am." 

"Captain?" 

"It took you less a second to answer, which only happens when you're doing paperwork. So either paperwork bores you out of your mind or it's just a side effect of your office desk being fairly close to the COMM. Either way I'm glad you're the one who answered as I need a word with you regarding the way you just left me in the mess hall with those scientists yesterday. You could have rescued me, you know." 

"Perhaps, but the odds were stacked against me and I was certain that any effort to save you would be futile. So I executed a strategic retreat instead." 

"You've gone against greater odds before." 

"True, but they involved life-threatening situations and your life was not in danger yesterday, since it's impossible to be literally bored to death." 

"I don't know about that; it may be possible." 

"If it were, the monthly status reports would have done me in long ago." 

"Good point. I still think you should have rescued me from those scientists though." 

"And risk getting captured by them too?" 

"I'm sure that if someone else had been there, they would have rescued me." 

"Really? Well, I dare you to ask around. See if there's anyone on board who would risk it. Then let me know. If there is, I'd like to shake their hand." 

"All right, I'll do that. I'll talk to you later." 

"I look forward to it."   
***   
Malcolm was just starting on the Tactical portion of his reports an hour later when the COMM buzzed again. 

"Hi, Malcolm." 

"Hello, Jonathan." 

"You were right. No one I asked would be willing to rescue me from that situation. Not even Trip. But I still think you should have. You are my chief of security after all and it's your job to rescue me." 

"Not from members of your own crew, unless they're staging a mutiny." 

"Okay, it might not be your job, and maybe no one else on board ship would have risked it, but I still think you should have stayed. Porthos would have." 

"True, but he'd only stick around for the petting. You would be out of luck if you expected him to discourage them. In fact, if he had been there, they would have likely stuck around longer. Just to pet him." 

"Yeah, they would have. I could put you under standing orders to rescue me from similar situations." 

"You could, but you'd have to report the standing order to Starfleet and how would you explain it?" 

"You have a point. I guess I just wish you thought I was worth the effort of being rescued from that situation." 

"If our situations had been reversed and they had surrounded me instead, talking excitedly and looking as if they'd be at it for quite awhile, would you have rescued me?" 

"Yes, I wouldn't abandon you in that situation. I know how much you'd hate it. I would have gone to the rescue even with the risk that I'd be captured too." 

"Oh. Well ... that means a lot to me. Thanks." 

"You're welcome." 

"But it doesn't change my stance to know that. I'd still leave you behind to face them alone." 

"You would? Wouldn't you feel guilty? Knowing you could have prevented it?" 

"Actually, that's why I would abandon you. I know that I wouldn't be able to prevent you from being surrounded by scientists intent on sharing their discoveries with you. I'd only delay it and the delay would only make them even more enthusiastic about sharing their findings with you. Thus leading to them cornering you somewhere else for a much longer period of time. And I like you too much to do that to you." 

"So you're saying that you proved you really like me by abandoning me to those scientists?" 

"Yes." 

"Oh, okay. I'll have to think about that awhile. I'm still sure I'd rescue someone if I saw them in a similar situation." 

"Even Admiral Hart?" 

"Maybe." 

"Really?" 

"Okay, maybe not. But at least I'd feel guilty about abandoning him. The least you could do is feel guilty over doing the same." 

"I'll try, but only because you're asking and I like you." 

"Thanks." 

"No problem." 

"I guess I should go back to work." 

"Me too." 

"I don't want to though." 

"Me neither, but we have to." 

"I know. I'll talk to you later though." 

"I'd like that."   
***   
Malcolm had just finished filing his last report when the COMM buzzed for the third time that day. 

"Well, I think I finally finished all my own reports. Every I crossed and every T dotted." 

"I hate to tell you this, but Iâ€™s are the ones you dot and Tâ€™s the ones you cross." 

"Well, I'm sure Starfleet won't notice. I doubt anyone really reads these things anyway." 

"They do. But only because they're bureaucrats and they're all anal and obsessive. Even more so than me. They go giddy when reading each and every detail of the reports." 

"I just tried to picture a giddy bureaucrat and I think I broke my brain." 

"Sorry about that. I can put in a request for a new one, if you want." 

"That would likely require you to fill out at least a dozen forms in triplicate." 

"I know, but I'd be willing to do that for you." 

"Wow." 

"Yes, it just wouldn't do to have a captain with a broken brain in command." 

"I guess not. Damn, I just got an intership mail from T'Pol telling she's on her way up with her reports for me to sign." 

"Are they that bad?" 

"No, in fact they're pretty interesting. I just wish I had more time to talk with you." 

"Why not call me back later? I'd love to hear why you find the reports so interesting." 

"You would? Why?" 

"Mostly because I'm now curious about what it is about T'Pol's reports that you find interesting." 

"Oh, okay. I'll call you back when I'm finished signing off all the reports." 

"Thanks. I look forward to hearing from you."   
***   
Malcolm was getting ready for bed when his room COMM unit buzzed, causing him to smile, knowing it had to be Jon. 

"Hello, Malcolm.â€

â€œHello Jon." 

"Did you know that you learn quite a lot about people through the monthly status reports they file? I mean you wouldn't expect to, but you do. Take T'Pol." 

"No, thanks." Malcolm grinned. 

Jon laughed. "No, I mean, I've learned a lot about T'Pol through her reports. Reading through them helped me understand her and her latest one helped me to see how much she's changed since she came on board." 

"What do you mean?" 

"Well, when she first came on board, T'Pol was very formal in her language. As if not quite comfortable using standard English. No idioms, no commonly used phrases, and very technical, full of scientific terms. Yet they were also a bit condescending, written in such a way that made it obvious she didn't think I was all that intelligent." 

"Why didn't you call her on that? You would have been perfectly justified to reprimand her for the condescending attitudes in her reports." 

"I didn't see the point. She would have been indoctrinated to see us as lower life forms by Soval. I thought she would either learn to respect our intelligence and abilities or she'd ask to be allowed to go back to the Vulcan High Command. Besides, it didn't take all that long for the tone of the reports to change. Less than six months. The tone began to have hints of respect and soon they sounded as if they were written for a colleague whose specialty was in a different field. She's also become more comfortable expressing herself in English." 

"True. She and I have had a bit of fun with Trip; by both of us joining up together to pull his leg, tease him a bit, now that she understands the concept of humour. She particularly likes plays on words and she may have helped me plan a practical joke or two, but you didn't hear that from me." 

"That might explain why Travis thinks Shuttle Pod 2 is sentient." 

"It might." 

"Now Hoshi's reports; I've always felt a bit guilty about putting my signature on them." 

"Really? Why?" 

"I guess because theyâ€™re so elegant and beautiful that each one is a unique work of art. It almost feels as if I'm putting my name on a painting I did not paint." 

"I'll have to get Hoshi to show me one of her reports then, before she turns them in." 

"They are something to see. I always look forward to seeing her reports. Now Travis' reports remind me of my early days as a test pilot, remind me of why I loved flying so much. They're sometimes confusing though." 

"Because he uses Boomerisms?" 

"Yeah. It used to be that each Boomer phrase confused me terribly." 

"That would be before you got that Boomer to English dictionary." 

"How did you know about that?" 

"Who do you think suggested to Travis that he might want to give you a list of Boomer phrases and shorthand?" 

"You did that? Got him to give me a dictionary so I'd be able to understand what he was saying better?" 

"And to understand other Boomers better too." 

"Well, I'm glad you suggested it to him. It's helped a lot." 

"Good. Now, I've seen some of Trip's reports, since he's needed information from me to fill out some of them and sometimes we've had to file joint reports since we've worked on the same thing. The ones that are his alone are full of mismatched metaphors, colourful colloquialisms and odd observations. I've never quite understood his fascination over the right ventral exhaust." 

"Oh, that's an in-joke between Trip and me. See, he's always teased me that Enterprise is my little sister, since my father worked so long and so hard on her design, and he's always insisted that she's right handed, given that the right warp nacelle has always operated a bit more efficiently. He insists that the right ventral exhaust is the first place we'll see indications of problems and that if something goes a bit odd with anything onboard, we can trace where the problem is from that exhaust." 

"And can we?" 

"Trip always seems to find the source of the problem when he works from the right ventral exhaust outwards." 

"He should be able to do that from any point onboard." 

"Maybe, but I kind of like Trip's belief, that the Enterprise is like my younger sister and that she's right handed." 

"As you wish. I have to say that it seems a bit odd to me." 

"If you want odd, you should try reading Phlox's reports. They are full of details on which treatments he's used or is developing and where the treatments come from. Or full of things he's noticed in regards to the crew. Never naming names, but the things he writes about reflect his peculiar viewpoints. He even once submitted a report that suggested he thought that I was subservient to Porthos due to his observation of the way I interacted with him. It even referred to me as being Porthos' pet." 

"Well, you are. He's the one in charge and you're devoted to spoiling him rotten. I expect it's due to the way he looks at you with those eyes of his. He has you wrapped around his paw." 

"He does. And then there are your reports. Though they're short and concise, they're also fun to read." 

"Why is that?" 

"There's an understated sarcastic humour running through them. You have a very subtle way of pointing out how pointless you think some of the questions on the forms are. Ways of insulting the bureaucrats wanting to know how many microns are used in a five second burst from a phase pistol on any given day." 

"Only because it fluctuates from pistol to pistol, within the specs, and each pistol has its own pattern. It makes it easier to identify which phase pistol was used in any particular situation." 

"You also have a way of describing explosions that helps me understand why you find them so wonderful and exciting." 

"Each one is special in its own way. Some so beautifully symmetric that you can not help but admire the skill behind getting it to blow up that way. Others are asymmetrical, but the power behind them awes you. The way each one affects everything around them, even if the explosion is very small, is astounding. The vibrations from them, the displacement of air - if they're inside, the displacement of matter, the debris left behind- all tell a story. I love setting off explosions, when testing the phase pistols, grenades, phase cannons or torpedoes. And though they're also satisfying when I shoot at an enemy ship, they're also a bit different. The life lost is something I think about every now and then." 

"Do you feel guilty when you kill someone?" 

"Not as much when it comes through an explosion, where there's a remove between me and them, where I just see their ship or station blow up. Hand to hand, where you get into their face and look into their eyes... I haven't killed that way all that often, but it always strikes me hard. Having to live with the memories of how I did it. All three times, it was necessary, something that could not be avoided and in performance of my duty to protect others and myself and yet... there's still a part of me that feels guilty over the deaths and always will." 

"I'm glad I've never had to do that. It's something I don't know I could do if faced with the possibility. I hope I never find out if I could."

"Me too. Now this discussion has gotten a bit depressing." 

"Maybe, but it's helped me understand you a bit better."

"Me too." 

"Anyway, I do like to read your reports. They're always interesting and some of your observations of the crew show incredible insight. You have a way of seeing what motivates everyone you meet, what makes them tick. It's what will make you a great captain one day." 

"And what makes me a great security officer now. One you should listen to if I tell you we need to use greater caution in a situation." 

"I'll keep that in mind." 

"Thanks. Well, I have to be up early tomorrow, since I have a double shift and I'd hate to be late since I get to test phase pistols on the firing range." 

"I'd hate to make you late for that too. I know how much you look forward to testing the pistols." 

"That I do. Will I see you tomorrow?" 

"Yes, you will. I'll make a point to meet up with you tomorrow." 

"Thanks. See you then, Jon." 

"See you." 

On the fourth day of Christmas, my new friend gave to me, four COMM calls.


	5. Chapter 5

â€œOn the fifth day of Christmas, my true love gave to me, five golden rings.â€

It was just Malcolmâ€™s bad luck that had him working in the bowels of the ship when he really wanted to be somewhere accessible, in case Jon wanted to fulfill his promise to visit him while they were both on shift. But he knew it was highly unlikely that the captain would crawl through dozens of maintenance shafts just to see him. So he did his best to focus on his task of replacing each of the damaged chips in this section of the power grid, one of twenty-five affected in various parts of the ship due to a power surge earlier that morning. A power surge caused by an unauthorized experiment one of the engineers had put together. 

There were at least fifty different ways he could kill the engineer in question without anyone ever being able to prove it was him and Malcolm was keeping himself amused by listing all the ways out loud. â€œLetâ€™s see, it would be easy to set up an untraceable remote program to disrupt the transporter array, thus reducing him to his component molecules. The fact that everyone would discount it as a malfunction is just a side bonus.â€

â€œI hope youâ€™re not planning my demise, especially since I brought you a gift.â€ Jon said, holding up a small package.

â€œNo, itâ€™s not you Iâ€™m planning to kill, but someone else.â€ Malcolm said, reacting calmly, having heard the sounds of approach.

â€œIâ€™m sorry, but I canâ€™t let you kill Crewman Prescott either, at least not for the foreseeable future.â€

â€œWhy not?â€

â€œBecause Trip needs him to clean out the plasma exhausts, using his toothbrush and a bucket of cleaning solution. Once heâ€™s finished that, heâ€™s to head to the armoury and wash the floor with his tongue.â€

â€œHmm... an accident while target shooting might be a bit too obvious.â€ Malcolm tapped his finger against his chin, deep in thought.

â€œTrue. A torpedo malfunction would be too obvious also.â€ Jon pointed out.

â€œMaybe I could get Crewman Novakovich to bring Bob down for a visit.â€ 

â€œBob? Which Bob?â€

â€œThe one he created out of slime. Possibly sentient. It might be convinced to eat Crewman Prescott.â€

â€œIf you convince Bob to do that, sell tickets. Youâ€™ll make a lot of money. Powerâ€™s still down to two thirds of the ship and the mess hall has run out of the last of the food they prepared before the blackout. Chef has asked that we switch to rations until we can get the power up and running to the galley again. I did manage to wrangle this out of him for you though.â€ Jon said, handing him the small package he brought.

â€œYou shouldnâ€™t have.â€

â€œI wanted to. Go on, open it up.â€

Malcolm opened it and inside the package was five golden pineapple rings, big and juicy and still slightly cold. The aroma filled the air around him, making his mouth water in anticipation. 

â€œWould you like a slice?â€ Malcolm asked Jon, in spite of how much he wanted to have all five slices to himself.

â€œNo, you go ahead. Itâ€™s all yours. Enjoy.â€

â€œThank you, Jon.â€

â€œYouâ€™re welcome. I have to go check on Travis. Last I heard he was trying to rig up a fan to help with air circulation in sickbay, one powered by bat guano.â€ 

â€œPhlox should love that.â€

â€œHe should. I hope Iâ€™ll see you again tomorrow.â€

â€œMe too,â€ Malcolm said, leaning against a wall, intending to take as much time as he could eating the pineapple. Not only so he could savour the taste, but so he could savour the memory of Jon going to so much trouble to get it to him.

On the fifth day of Christmas, my new friend gave to me, five pineapple rings.


	6. Chapter 6

â€œOn the sixth day of Christmas, my true love gave to me, six geese a-laying.â€ 

Malcolm was glad to be back in the armoury amongst his weapons, surrounded by familiarity. Even the time consuming task of manually checking each computer chip and power coupling for residual damage wasnâ€™t as depressing as it normally was. Perhaps it was because the pineapple he had yesterday was still working its magic on him. Or perhaps he was still looking forward to Crewman Prescottâ€™s demise - he WAS still hoping to borrow Novakovich's slime creature Bob and have him eat Prescott. Or perhaps it was due to the continual attention Jon had been showering upon him. 

No matter what it was, he was certain nothing could dampen his spirits. Then he got a text message from Crewman Novakovich.

To Lieutenant Reed  
From Ethan the mad scientist Novakovich

Iâ€™m sorry, but Bob is a vegetarian and is not willing to eat Prescott, even though I told Bob that the man was a vegetable. Which is too bad. I was looking forward to the man being gone.

Hugs and Kisses,  
Ethan

Malcolm sighed, knowing heâ€™d now have to find another way of getting rid of Prescott. The man was a menace, having single-handedly caused a lot of damage to Enterprise on three different occasions now. The latest incident had injured several people and even came close to destroying the ship. The Englishman was trying to decide between sending Prescott off alone on a specially rigged shuttlepod two or having him inspect a docking port from the outside without an EV suit when the COMM sounded.

â€œCaptain Archer to Lieutenant Reed.â€

â€œReed here.â€

â€œIâ€™ve managed to talk Trip into letting you have six engineers for the day. They are to help you with repairs and that special project youâ€™re working on.â€

â€œUnderstood. Iâ€™ll have everything ready for them when they arrive.â€

Malcolm looked around the armoury, saw how his beloved phase cannons were listing to one side, saw the scorch marks from a fire caused by the power surge yesterday, one that had come dangerously close to the room in which the plasma grenades were stored and was filled with new resolve. Heâ€™d make sure that Prescott left the ship within 24 hours, willingly or not, alive or dead; it did not matter to him. The man would be gone.

Lieutenant Reed turned as the engineers entered the room, smiling evilly, intending to get them to do all the grunt work. Very glad that Jon gave them to him to do his bidding and follow his orders.

On the sixth day of Christmas, my good friend gave to me, six engineers to work in the armoury.


	7. Chapter 7

â€œOn the seventh day of Christmas, my true love gave to me, seven swans a-swimming.â€

Malcolm was on his way to Science Lab two with a gift for Liz under his arm. Proud to be one of the few invited to her birthday breakfast. He was wondering whether Novakovich and his slime creature would be in attendance when he heard an excited bark.

â€œHello Porthos, whereâ€™s your human?â€ Malcolm asked as he knelt down to pet the beagle.

â€œIâ€™m right here.â€ Jon answered as he came around the corner.

â€œSo Porthos hasnâ€™t escaped on you.â€

â€œNo, not this time. Heâ€™s just taking me for my morning walk.â€

â€œWhat a good boy!â€ Malcolm praised as rubbed the pupâ€™s ears. 

â€œHe has his moments.â€

â€œWell, Iâ€™m on my way to Lizâ€™s party, will you be joining us?â€

â€œNot this year. She and Phlox will be joining me for dinner though, so if youâ€™re available at 1800 hours you can come along.â€

â€œIâ€™ll be participating in the ship wide chess tournament then, so I wonâ€™t be able to join you tonight. Maybe tomorrow?â€

â€œTomorrow it is. See you later.â€

â€œSee you.â€ Malcolm replied as he gives Porthos one last pet.

***

Malcolm had come to the port docking hatch to send Prescott off on his way. The man had chosen to resign from Star Fleet after the talk Reed had had with him. A talk that had apparently motivated the man to get away on the first available ship. It was just coincidence that the only available ship was a garbage scow that would take at least a year to return Prescott to Earth. Or at least that was the story Malcolm was sticking to.

Quite a few people were gathered to send Prescott off, including the captain. Jon was standing right next to him and had even clasped his hand briefly as the crowd murmured around them. It was only as the docking hatch closed after Prescott and the crowd had started to cheer and dance about in glee that he and Jon were separated.

***

Malcolm was having a friendly contest with his staff. Him as the aggressor trying to reach sensitive areas of the ship to blow them up, his staff doing their best to stop him. There were twelve targets he was to try to reach ahead of his staff, if he did and he managed to affix a sticker onto the target in a specific place he scored a point. All his staff had to do was hold him to as few points as possible. 

He had managed to place one sticker on the shuttlebay hatch lock and one on Shuttlepod 2, both stickers prominently displaying the word â€˜BOOM!â€™ in bright yellow and red flaming letters. He was now on his way to Engineering and the warp core. Going from corridor to maintenance shaft to corridor in a so far successful attempt at avoiding his staff. He was dashing down one of the corridors, headed for the last maintenance shaft when he spotted Jon. He swerved and stopped just long enough to affix a sticker to Jonâ€™s back and take in his gorgeous smile before going on his way.

Malcolm managed to place seven of his twelve stickers on important targets before his staff apprehended him.

***

The Englishman was very hungry by the time he headed to the mess hall for lunch, having had a very busy day. So he nearly did not notice Jon glaring at him as he entered the turbolift.

â€œIâ€™ll find a way to get you for blowing me up.â€

â€œYou and what army?â€

â€œI was thinking of recruiting Porthos.â€

â€œOh, Iâ€™m sooo scared. What if he slobbers on me?â€

Jonâ€™s laughter was music to Malcolmâ€™s ears as he left the turbolift and went on his way.

***

Malcolm was on his way to Engineering to remove the sticker he had put on the warp core when he came across Jon for the fifth time that day. The man was casually leaning against a wall, pretending to be engrossed in a PADD, but giving himself away by looking up frequently as if in search of someone. 

Lieutenant Reed stepped into the corridor, as if not noticing the captain there and saw the man suddenly smile. He nodded at the older man as he passed him and the man nodded back, unaware that he was blowing his cover.

 

The lieutenant knew now that it wasnâ€™t just coincidence that he had met up with Jon so often and wondered if Jon would lay in wait of him again.

***

Malcolm decided to wander through the arboretum, something he normally avoided at all costs. But nothing was flowering at the moment and he wanted to see just what lengths Jon would go to in order to find him and â€œaccidentallyâ€ meet up with him. 

He was just passing the first tree when Jon entered through the nearest door. Malcolm smiled, stopping to examine an interesting ficus elastica, giving the older man time to catch up with him. He saw the captain reach out with a sticker in one hand and turned in one smooth motion to stop him, take the sticker and affix it to Jonâ€™s chest.

â€œGot you again.â€ Malcolm snickered and breaking his hold on Jon, ran for the far door.

***

It had been a long day and Malcolm was ready for a good nightâ€™s sleep. But he was entirely too paranoid to relax his guard. Which was why he ducked and rolled as someone tried to pounce on him from the corridor intersecting the one that led to his quarters. He rose up in a defensive crouch and saw Jon on his hands and knees, the sticker he had been holding in one hand, now stuck to the floor. Right above a plasma conduit.

â€œCongratulations. You got me, but you got everyone else in this section too. Including yourself.â€

â€œIt was worth it.â€

â€œI hope so. I leave it up to you to explain to Starfleet why you destroyed a whole section of your own ship.â€

â€œItâ€™ll be up to Tâ€™Pol to explain it. After all, Iâ€™m dead.â€

â€œTrue. Have a good night Jon.â€

â€œYou too Malcolm.â€ Jon said, doing his best to remove the sticker with the word â€˜BOOM!â€™ written on it from the floor.

On the seventh day of Christmas, my good friend gave to me, seven seemingly random meetings.


	8. Chapter 8

â€œOn the eighth day of Christmas, my true love gave to me, eight maids a-milking.â€

The first smile came as Malcolm was sipping his morning tea. The way Jonâ€™s eyes shone with joy upon seeing him warmed him from head to toe. It left him feeling happy and had him looking forward to the rest of the day.

The second smile was soft and indulgent as the captain watched him shoot at some meteorites. Somehow, that smile made it harder for Malcolm to hide the happy grin that he always sported when he got to blow things up.

The third smile was more of a teasing grin as Travis and Hoshi applauded him and praised him for the light show created from the last two meteorites being reduced to dust with just one shot. Malcolm tried to hide his embarrassment at the praise, but he could still feel the flush on his face. A flush that grew with every moment Jon grinned at him.

The fourth smile came as Malcolm stepped onto the same turbolift as Jon. It was a smile of welcome and it made the younger man tingle with happiness. To be accepted by this man meant more to him than he could ever say. To be welcomed into Jonâ€™s life with eagerness and joy was something that Malcolm would always cherish.

The fifth smile came as they tried to pass each other in a corridor; Jon going one way and Malcolm the other. They had both tried to step aside for the other with an â€œafter you.â€ Then they had both accepted the otherâ€™s invitation and had almost collided. Then they had performed an awkward kind of dance to get around each other. Jonâ€™s smile was full of suppressed amusement as they parted, a look that Malcolm tucked safely into his memory.

The sixth smile was one that lit Jon up from the inside, making Malcolmâ€™s breath catch with its beauty. To be honoured with such a smile just for such a simple thing as joining the captain for dinner nearly overwhelmed Malcolm. To be gifted by such a smile touched him so deeply that he forgot to be nervous. It also caused him to pay more attention to Jon than the meal they were eating. So much so he wouldnâ€™t have been able to tell anyone what it was they ate.

The seventh smile came as they lingered over dessert, a lovely cinnamon raisin rice pudding that reminded Malcolm of Nana. So much so that he told Jon all about his motherâ€™s mother, describing the way she always fussed over him. Telling his friend of how generous Nana was with her cookies, her kisses on his cheek and her affection. He told Jon of how Nana taught him how to love and showed him that he was loveable. And all through his telling Jon of his Nana, Jon smiled a teary sort of smile. Almost as if he was deeply touched to hear all about Nana and her love.

The eighth smile came as the evening ended, after Jon had walked Malcolm to his door. They had clasped hands briefly, both needing that one last touch. Then Jon had smiled at him, an â€œIâ€™ll miss youâ€ smile. A smile that warmed Malcolmâ€™s heart and soul. A smile that filled some of the empty places inside. A smile that he remembered in his dreams.

On the eighth day of Christmas, my dear friend gave to me, eight warm smiles.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now were even. Enjoy whats inside. Jon.

â€œOn the ninth day of Christmas, my true love gave to me, nine ladies dancing.â€

It had been one of those days in which he might have been better off if he had stayed in bed. It all started with his alarm clock dying on him, which had led to him having to skip breakfast in order to get to his shift in the armoury on time. Then Ensign Tanner had called in sick at the last minute, leaving them short handed. Thus making it impossible for Malcolm to go visit the bridge. The morning had been so hectic that he had to have a steward deliver his lunch to him in order to have enough time to eat. 

As if that wasnâ€™t enough, several phase pistols had obviously conspired to malfunction at the exact same time. In a way that required extensive repairs and a hands on inspection of all pistols to make sure they were not about to malfunction in the same way. This had trapped him inside the armoury for the rest of the afternoon and on into the evening. Though Malcolm had ordered a meal from the galley again, it was cold by the time he got around eating it. He had also missed all of the captainâ€™s calls to the armoury by mere moments.

All in all Malcolm was weary and heart sore by the time he managed to drag himself away from work and to the mess hall for a snack before bed. There he found only one lone dish of cold resequenced meatloaf available. If that wasnâ€™t a sign that the universe was out to get him today, he didnâ€™t know what was. 

He sighed and headed for home, knowing that almost anything would be better than that meatloaf. Even the cookies that Maddy sent him a few months ago that were now stale would be better.

Malcolm stopped short of his quarters when he noticed a small square package wrapped up in brown paper in front of his door. He took out his scanner and scanned it carefully, unwilling to take a risk with an unmarked package. Once he determined it was harmless, he picked it up in his hands. It was only after he picked it up that he noticed the sticker on itâ€™s bottom, spelling out â€œBOOM!â€ in bright yellow and red flaming letters. Right next to the sticker was a note: â€œNow weâ€™re even. Enjoy whatâ€™s inside. Jon.â€

Doubly cautious now that heâ€™d been bitten once he took the parcel inside and unwrapped it carefully. Under the unassuming brown wrapping was an elegantly beautiful box with familiar writing on it. Here, at the end of a horrible day, was a box full of fine chocolates from Risa. Nine chocolates, each hand made with care and looking oh so sinfully delicious. He had been lucky enough to have such a chocolate when they had visited Risa last and the memory of that chocolate was enough to make Malcolmâ€™s mouth water in anticipation.

But first he had to make himself a pot of tea, to go with the chocolates. So he got his teakettle out and started to heat the water. He then spooned five rounded spoons of leaves into a strainer basket. Once the water was at a roiling boil, he poured a little of it into the pot to warm it. He then put the strainer basket into the pot and poured water over the leaves and let it set for five minutes, stirring the tea before pulling the basket out and pouring himself a cup. 

He sat on his couch, teapot on the side table with the full cup, chocolates on his right and smiled. He took a sip of tea, then picked up the first chocolate and bit in. His eyes rolled back into his head and his toes curled, as the smooth creamy chocolate swept through his system. He took another bite of chocolate and moaned in delight. It was definitely a chocolate worthy of being blown up for.

On the ninth day of Christmas, my dear friend gave to me, nine Risan chocolates.


	10. Chapter 10

â€œOn the tenth day of Christmas, my true love gave to me, ten lords a-leaping.â€

From the moment Jon had shown up for his private session in self-defence, Malcolm knew he was in trouble.

For some reason, the sight of his friend dressed in shorts and t-shirt had distracted him, kept him off balance. He kept catching himself checking the older man out and reprimanded himself over it. The fact that the man seemed to be checking him out too hadnâ€™t helped Malcolmâ€™s attention span at all. Never mind the hands on training! 

That had definitely pushed Malcolm to his limit. To have Jon touching him here and there. To have him pinning him down time and again and then holding him in place had nearly driven him insane. 

In fact, when the fifth move ended up with him face down on the matt with Jon on top of him, he had an inconvenient reaction. One that he had to fight off with images of himself surrounded by water in a pool. The next few moves that had him and Jon pinning each other in turn had him picturing himself in a lake, a rapid river, and an ocean in turn. 

The tenth move had ended up with Malcolm on his back, Jon pinning him from the side, their bodies touching shoulder to hip. He had looked up into Jonâ€™s eyes and saw barely contained desire. He heard Jonâ€™s rapid breathing, matched by his own. He saw the sweat glistening Jonâ€™s face. His slightly stronger scent had Malcolm reaching up toward Jon with the intent of pulling him down for a kiss, just as a red alert sounded. Followed by Tâ€™Pol calling everyone to battle stations.

Malcolm had really, really enjoyed blowing the ship that had interrupted his and Jonâ€™s sparring into smithereens.

On the tenth day of Christmas, my cherished friend and I practiced ten self-defence moves.


	11. Chapter 11

â€œOn the eleventh day of Christmas, my true love sent to me, eleven pipers piping.â€

On his days off, Malcolm ate pancakes with peanut butter on them for breakfast with a glass of cold milk to wash them down. Then he visited each observation port in turn, to take in the scenery. Then he stepped by Science Lab Two for the cockroach races Liz hosted. After that, heâ€™d join Travis in the sweet spot for a picnic lunch before heading to Ensign Tannerâ€™s book and movie exchange. Heâ€™d stop by the mess hall for take away Malaysian or Indian food and then go home to enjoy the book or movie that he had picked up. 

Sticking to this routine helped him relax and kept him from obsessing over work. Which was why he stuck to it in spite of its predictability. Today, he was hoping that the predictability would help Jon find him. Assuming the man wanted to and considering what had happened in the gym yesterday when they sparred, he should.

Sure enough, Jon was there at Tannerâ€™s book and movie exchange with a basket full of movie chips and a personal movie player. Jon handed him the basket and smiled.

â€œWould you...â€ was as far as he got before Trip burst into the room, frantic and upset. Making a beeline to Jon.

â€œI just got a letter from home and need to talk to you. I know you wanted to watch a movie tonight, but this is important. Can I come over?â€

â€œOf course. Is it about your mother?â€

â€œYeah, but Iâ€™d rather not say anything until weâ€™re alone.â€

â€œI understand.â€

Malcolm had stepped aside, giving Jon an understanding smile as Jon shrugged apologetically.

â€œIâ€™ll see you tomorrow.â€

â€œTomorrow it is.â€ Malcolm replied as Jon and Trip left together.

When Malcolm got home, he found eleven movies in the basket. Movies he would be able to keep, if he wanted to. Ten of them were his favourite movies of all time and the other was one he had never seen before. Wanting to save the movie he had not yet seen for a time he and Jon could watch it together, he put on one of his favourites and watched it.

The movieâ€™s perfectly symmetrical explosions were nearly enough to compensate for Jonâ€™s absence, but not quite. After all, Jonâ€™s presence made everything just a bit better.

On the eleventh day of Christmas, my cherished friend gave to me, a basket with eleven movies inside.


	12. Chapter 12

*note this chapter is NC-17

***  
â€œOn the twelfth day of Christmas my true love sent to me, twelve drummers drumming.â€

The first kiss is soft and full of promise. A gentle kiss lasting only moments, but it manages to melt his heart. The sort of kiss that warms the soul and makes you sigh every time you remember it. It is this kiss that tips Malcolmâ€™s world sideways and turns friendship into love.

The second kiss is a brush of lips against lips as they stand by a window looking out into space, starlight shining upon them. Jonâ€™s arms wrap around him to hold him close, to anchor him to the floor. It is the sort of kiss that had Malcolmâ€™s soul floating about with quiet joy as Jonâ€™s lips caress starlight into his.

The third kiss is like a fine wine, mouths sipping each others essence as tongues dip briefly inside. It is smoky and full bodied, flowing through Malcolm and filling him up. It is spicy and delicious, making him long for more. It is addictive, leaving behind a desperate need to kiss again and again and again as soon as possible.

The fourth kiss is possessive. Jon claims Malcolmâ€™s mouth for his own. In front of Trip in the captainâ€™s dining room. One that leaves no doubt that Malcolm is now spoken for, off limits, and completely, utterly Jonâ€™s.

The fifth kiss is sweet and full of fun. Jon leans in as Malcolm laughs freely and takes his lips in a kiss. One in which laughter was shared, their bodies both shaking with it. One that starts tingles throughout Malcolmâ€™s body and leaves him gasping.

The sixth kiss is an exploration. Tongues delve deeply into each otherâ€™s mouths and map the contours. Fingers caress each other, tracing muscles, rubbing, pinching and scratching, as they kiss. With just a pause to almost catch their breath before exploring some more.

The seventh is a nibbling trail across one cheekbone, over to an ear, behind the ear for a bit and then down the throat. A trail that blazes fire throughout Malcolm, engulfs him in need. A trail that somehow leads to each little nibble striking his heart, eroding the barriers around it and leaving the younger man vulnerable and unafraid.

The eighth kiss is a lingering one. Jonâ€™s lips on his, tasting of each other. It is a kiss that is savoured slowly. That implies they have forever just to sit there, next to each other and kiss. With slight stroking of each otherâ€™s backs and necks, low murmurs of appreciation, soft sighs and barely heard moans.

The ninth kiss, a butterfly kiss across the bare skin of his chest. Jonâ€™s lips flutter over him, opening and closing quickly as they barely touch him. Jonâ€™s breath brushes his body. Though barely felt, the flicker of the older manâ€™s lips causes Malcolm to melt inside, leaving him feeling boneless and content.

The tenth kiss is needy. A clashing together of mouths and teeth as they experience a sudden surge of hunger for the other. It is almost as if they could not quite get enough of each other and just have to kiss and kiss and kiss. Their hands are everywhere in bruising touches, shedding each others clothes, and grasping anything they can hold.

The eleventh kiss is almost punishing. Nearly painful. Their hunger for each other almost out of control. They writhe against each other. Skin slides against skin as sweat glistens on their bodies. Their moans fill the cabinâ€™s air, their combined scent wafting over each other as desire flames between them. Malcolmâ€™s legs wrap around Jon in a desperate attempt to get closer. His cock rubs against Jonâ€™s as they kiss. Jonâ€™s hands on his hips, clutch hard. His arms around Jonâ€™s back as he tries to pull them closer. Faster and faster, higher and higher, until they implode with desire.

The twelfth kiss is comforting and calming. An affirmation of love. Soothing and gentle as they gasp together, trying to catch their breath. It is almost a lazy kiss, bare touching of lips against skin as they gather enough energy to move their heads. Soft petting is exchanged as they recover from the implosion. Malcolm would gather Jon close, hold him tight, and hug him if he could, but he just doesnâ€™t have the energy. Instead, Jon gives him a calming kiss as Malcolm drifts off into dreams.

On the twelfth day of Christmas my true love gave to me, twelve kisses, all sorts.


	13. Chapter 13

Twelve days of Christmas, the song in Archer/Reed style

On the first day of Christmas  
My captain sent to me  
A phase pistol of my very own.

On the second day of Christmas  
My captain gave to me  
Two shoulder pats   
And a phase pistol of my very own.

On the third day of Christmas  
The captain gave to me  
Three significant looks  
Two shoulder pats   
And a phase pistol of my very own.

On the fourth day of Christmas  
My new friend gave to me  
Four COMM calls  
Three significant looks  
Two shoulder pats   
And a phase pistol of my very own.

On the fifth day of Christmas  
My new friend gave to me  
Five pineapple rings  
Four COMM calls  
Three significant looks  
Two shoulder pats   
And a phase pistol of my very own.

On the sixth day of Christmas  
My good friend gave to me  
Six engineers to work in the armoury  
Five pineapple rings  
Four COMM calls  
Three significant looks  
Two shoulder pats   
And a phase pistol of my very own.

On the seventh day of Christmas  
My good friend gave to me  
Seven seemingly random meetings  
Six engineers to work in the armoury  
Five pineapple rings  
Four COMM calls  
Three significant looks  
Two shoulder pats   
And a phase pistol of my very own.

On the eighth day of Christmas  
My dear friend gave to me  
Eight warm smiles  
Seven seemingly random meetings  
Six engineers to work in the armoury  
Five pineapple rings  
Four COMM calls  
Three significant looks  
Two shoulder pats   
And a phase pistol of my very own.

On the ninth day of Christmas  
My dear friend gave to me  
Nine Risan chocolates  
Eight warm smiles  
Seven seemingly random meetings  
Six engineers to work in the armoury  
Five pineapple rings  
Four COMM calls  
Three significant looks  
Two shoulder pats   
And a phase pistol of my very own.

On the tenth day of Christmas  
My cherished friend and I   
Practiced ten self-defence moves  
Nine Risan chocolates  
Eight warm smiles  
Seven seemingly random meetings  
Six engineers to work in the armoury  
Five pineapple rings  
Four COMM calls  
Three significant looks  
Two shoulder pats   
And a phase pistol of my very own.

On the eleventh day of Christmas  
My cherished friend gave to me  
A basket with eleven movies inside  
Practiced ten self-defence moves  
Nine Risan chocolates  
Eight warm smiles  
Seven seemingly random meetings  
Six engineers to work in the armoury  
Five pineapple rings  
Four COMM calls  
Three significant looks  
Two shoulder pats   
And a phase pistol of my very own.

On the twelfth day of Christmas  
My true love gave to me  
Twelve kisses, all sorts  
A basket with eleven movies inside  
Practiced ten self-defence moves  
Nine Risan chocolates  
Eight warm smiles  
Seven seemingly random meetings  
Six engineers to work in the armoury  
Five pineapple rings  
Four COMM calls  
Three significant looks  
Two shoulder pats   
And a phase pistol of my very own.


End file.
